I think I've mentioned before that I don't enjoy driving. I will now clarify this point by stating quite clearly if I never had to drive again, not a bother would be on me. I should have thought about the driving before I agreed to take a job that necessitated me covering 5 counties and spending on average 4 hours a day in my car.
My January has been filled with driving.
Rush hour stuck in traffic type driving.
Getting to places so far away on tiny rural roads that my sat nav keeps going off in a huff because she thinks I'm ignoring her and driving in a field type driving.
Leaving so early Chris Moyles isn't on the radio driving.
Getting stuck behind a tractor and driving at 16 miles an hour and not being able to overtake as it's a 1 track road with a ditch filled with water on either side type driving.
Constantly stressing about whether or not I'll get there on time driving.
I am truly worn out. And my teeth have been ground down to stumps. I am in flitters.
This is part of the reason for my pitiful, hardly managing a post per week blogging.
On a cheerier note, my blog was 4 this month.
4 years of me getting my say. Amazing.
These last 4 years have seen me change jobs a few times, fail to finalise a divorce, moan about my children, fall in and out of lust, see me remain the worlds least romantic woman, hopefully occassionally be happy with my children and read quite a lot of your blogs.
Some of the blogs I read and loved 4 years ago have gone, I've added some new blogs to read and love. I've been invited in to have a peek at lives all over the globe, some very different and some spookily similar to my own. I have laughed and cried with you both virtually and in real life. I am so massively grateful to blogging.
I hope you've enjoyed a little peek into my world and somewhere along the 4 years I've made you smile, so if you can be arsed, pop by the comments box, even if you don't usually and say hi to your auntie. It's my birthday.
Friday, 28 January 2011
Friday, 21 January 2011
Things I learned yesterday
Always check the chair before you sit down.
Especially in Nursing homes.
It isn't comfortable to be delivering a 3 hour training session with a wet patch on your middle aged lady Boden wrap round dress.
Especially in Nursing homes.
It isn't comfortable to be delivering a 3 hour training session with a wet patch on your middle aged lady Boden wrap round dress.
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
Taxing Times
I would so love to spout off the full 3 verses and the disco chorus of how unbelievably tedious my evening has been.
But that wouldn't be fair.
The short version is in October I filed my short tax return. I was a numpty and didn't include a page and we won't even get started that it happened to be a page I didn't need. They sent it back to me and told me to file online. The rules state you must have a full set of foreign pages and I didn't. Rules is rules or some other bollocks.
Tonight unfortified by wine or gin, I attempted to register for online filing. This was a mistake. They wouldn't let me, they said I had already registered. Glory Be there is a God, I managed to find a letter dated 2007 with my log in details. I have no clue how that happened.
Easy peasy thinks your auntie, with the returned paper copy of her tax return beside her, she's thinking she'll be done in time for Mary Portas being cross about customer service.
I was wrong. On both counts.
The short paper version asks you for your combined earnings (I had 3 part time jobs in that year) the online version wants each employment separately and the tax reference number for each.
I managed to find the P60 I'd lost. But have managed to lose the 2 P60's I had.
I don't know how much I earned or how much I paid separately, only all added up. It was pitiful anyway, I read somewhere you should be earning your age, in that tax year I was just out of knees socks. And I was knackered.
I also failed when I didn't have any tips to declare, it demanded tips, I said I'd been tipped £1. This is a lie. No one ever tipped me a curdy.
I had been at this for hours and I was only 7% complete.
I ate nearly half a tub of Rum and Raisin ice cream. I ate nearly half last night too which necessitated it to be forcibly removed from my sweaty mitts. When I was returning the 2 spoonfuls left of ice cream to the freezer, I spotted the box of emergency present chocolates left over from Christmas. That'll be the same box I am munching through now.
I gave up and then I was hugely disappointed to find out I was a day early for Mary and was more than a little confused to see very young girls in very big dresses getting married. They reminded me of the doll my granny used to have on top of her toilet, she kept a loo roll up the dolly's frock, was that just a Scottish thing?
The irony is, according to the tax man, they owe me over £600, I'll let them keep it if I don't have to file the fecker.
PS - My laptop is fixed, as in my own, never let me down fashion, I offloaded it to someone else and whined and cajoled and pleaded till it was done. I have no shame.
But that wouldn't be fair.
The short version is in October I filed my short tax return. I was a numpty and didn't include a page and we won't even get started that it happened to be a page I didn't need. They sent it back to me and told me to file online. The rules state you must have a full set of foreign pages and I didn't. Rules is rules or some other bollocks.
Tonight unfortified by wine or gin, I attempted to register for online filing. This was a mistake. They wouldn't let me, they said I had already registered. Glory Be there is a God, I managed to find a letter dated 2007 with my log in details. I have no clue how that happened.
Easy peasy thinks your auntie, with the returned paper copy of her tax return beside her, she's thinking she'll be done in time for Mary Portas being cross about customer service.
I was wrong. On both counts.
The short paper version asks you for your combined earnings (I had 3 part time jobs in that year) the online version wants each employment separately and the tax reference number for each.
I managed to find the P60 I'd lost. But have managed to lose the 2 P60's I had.
I don't know how much I earned or how much I paid separately, only all added up. It was pitiful anyway, I read somewhere you should be earning your age, in that tax year I was just out of knees socks. And I was knackered.
I also failed when I didn't have any tips to declare, it demanded tips, I said I'd been tipped £1. This is a lie. No one ever tipped me a curdy.
I had been at this for hours and I was only 7% complete.
I ate nearly half a tub of Rum and Raisin ice cream. I ate nearly half last night too which necessitated it to be forcibly removed from my sweaty mitts. When I was returning the 2 spoonfuls left of ice cream to the freezer, I spotted the box of emergency present chocolates left over from Christmas. That'll be the same box I am munching through now.
I gave up and then I was hugely disappointed to find out I was a day early for Mary and was more than a little confused to see very young girls in very big dresses getting married. They reminded me of the doll my granny used to have on top of her toilet, she kept a loo roll up the dolly's frock, was that just a Scottish thing?
The irony is, according to the tax man, they owe me over £600, I'll let them keep it if I don't have to file the fecker.
PS - My laptop is fixed, as in my own, never let me down fashion, I offloaded it to someone else and whined and cajoled and pleaded till it was done. I have no shame.
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Blogger Interuppted
Much as I love blogging my life has a nasty habit of getting in the way of my free time. I lied, I have no free time, I have hardly the time to blow my nose at present. I shan't play "I'm busier than you" Top Trumps because I would win and it would be boring for both you, dear reader and for me.
Edited highlights of the last few weeks
Beautiful Baby Daughter
Continues with her plan of household domination by wearing me down, she is good. She has no end of reasons for why I should give her what she wants, as I've said before top barristers could practice their debating skills with her. Fortunately I love her and this is why she is not dead or living with her Dad. Also she is very good at inserting video clips in my PowerPoint's as I have no patience expanding wee boxes, they are too foutery for me.
The Beautiful Son
Is unhappy, stressed, off his food and not sleeping. For once I can't make it better, he just has to accept that life is changing and he will have to accept it. I can't bear to see him unhappy and I have no control over the circumstances. I am not even meant to know, TBS has been sworn to secrecy and that is something that he can't deal with, so he came home, told me all and I can't do anything as he wasn't meant to tell. Secrets and change, double whammy for him. Pants. Big fat granny pants.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter
Came home for Christmas, made a lot of noise about mess, got upset about siblings saying they preferred her and her moaning about mess to stay at uni. Has to decide whether to find people to share a house with next year at uni or come home and commute in every day. She feels about decision making what TBS feels about change.
Cons in both plans...
Sharing house - there are very few students who will cope with her low mess threshold and her need for strict order in kitchen cupboards, not to mention her need for daily bathroom cleaning.
Coming home - despite the fact we will pay for a lesson a week and take her out to practice and on passing she will be given a car, she has yet to start driving lessons. This is possibly because she will actually have to do this for her own self, this is something she can't offload onto me or Hot Boy, both chief recipients of EBD's offloads. Shall I look in my crystal ball and give you my prediction? She will decide to come home, she will fail to learn to drive, I will spend a frantic 2 weeks before uni term starts trying to find somewhere my pampered princess can cope with living in. Before you start giving out to me, I know it's my fault. Even Hot Boy now texts me with her inability to be more use than a 5 year old and ends with "You raised that"
House
Despite having a week off at Christmas, I yet again failed to have an Anthea Turner standard of cleanliness. I also failed to do the eleventy million wee jobs that so need doing. I hate cleaning, so do the others who live here, so rather than be accused of nagging I do it, very passive aggressively. I still do as much as I did for my children as I did when they were 4, the only difference is they can bathe and wash their own hair now. I have swapped the bedtime story for the daily telling of "So she said and then I said" though on balance I think I preferred the nightly rendition of The Tiger Who Came to Tea. I can still retell it, every single word verbatim, it's my party piece.
Work
I love it. I don't always love the fact it takes me hours to get there. I can regularly spend 5 hours a day in my car. I also have a ferocious amount of technology to take with me to do my presentations, laptops, speakers, projectors, pointers etc. I am coping (but only if BBD does the bits I can't be arsed with)
My laptop
Still fecked. I have AVG, I have Norton and Norton 360. I think I have got rid of the nasty trojan but now when I try and log on it says Mozilla uses a proxy server and it doesn't have permission and to contact my service administrator. I have no clue who that is. I need the Internet, I haven't read my horoscope for days. I am writing this on my work laptop and I am terrified I will infect this one, the last one appeared when I clicked on someones photo on their blog.
General Failure of life stuff
I am still not divorced.
I can't find a P60.
I need the P60 to fill out the online tax return.
I need to fill out the online form as I filed my paper return with a page I didn't need missing, oh I'm still mithered about that.
I have a leak in my underground water pipe in Turkey. It appears to be an expensive leak.
I lost my work mobile phone.
I had to fess up this to the IT guy at work. The IT guy cowers under his desk and rocks when he sees it's me calling. I think I am accounting for about 90% of his work problems at the moment.
I am fatter than I was before Christmas, and I was fat then.
Now then, have I cheered you all up? made you realise that your life isn't as bad as you thought?
You're welcome.
Edited highlights of the last few weeks
Beautiful Baby Daughter
Continues with her plan of household domination by wearing me down, she is good. She has no end of reasons for why I should give her what she wants, as I've said before top barristers could practice their debating skills with her. Fortunately I love her and this is why she is not dead or living with her Dad. Also she is very good at inserting video clips in my PowerPoint's as I have no patience expanding wee boxes, they are too foutery for me.
The Beautiful Son
Is unhappy, stressed, off his food and not sleeping. For once I can't make it better, he just has to accept that life is changing and he will have to accept it. I can't bear to see him unhappy and I have no control over the circumstances. I am not even meant to know, TBS has been sworn to secrecy and that is something that he can't deal with, so he came home, told me all and I can't do anything as he wasn't meant to tell. Secrets and change, double whammy for him. Pants. Big fat granny pants.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter
Came home for Christmas, made a lot of noise about mess, got upset about siblings saying they preferred her and her moaning about mess to stay at uni. Has to decide whether to find people to share a house with next year at uni or come home and commute in every day. She feels about decision making what TBS feels about change.
Cons in both plans...
Sharing house - there are very few students who will cope with her low mess threshold and her need for strict order in kitchen cupboards, not to mention her need for daily bathroom cleaning.
Coming home - despite the fact we will pay for a lesson a week and take her out to practice and on passing she will be given a car, she has yet to start driving lessons. This is possibly because she will actually have to do this for her own self, this is something she can't offload onto me or Hot Boy, both chief recipients of EBD's offloads. Shall I look in my crystal ball and give you my prediction? She will decide to come home, she will fail to learn to drive, I will spend a frantic 2 weeks before uni term starts trying to find somewhere my pampered princess can cope with living in. Before you start giving out to me, I know it's my fault. Even Hot Boy now texts me with her inability to be more use than a 5 year old and ends with "You raised that"
House
Despite having a week off at Christmas, I yet again failed to have an Anthea Turner standard of cleanliness. I also failed to do the eleventy million wee jobs that so need doing. I hate cleaning, so do the others who live here, so rather than be accused of nagging I do it, very passive aggressively. I still do as much as I did for my children as I did when they were 4, the only difference is they can bathe and wash their own hair now. I have swapped the bedtime story for the daily telling of "So she said and then I said" though on balance I think I preferred the nightly rendition of The Tiger Who Came to Tea. I can still retell it, every single word verbatim, it's my party piece.
Work
I love it. I don't always love the fact it takes me hours to get there. I can regularly spend 5 hours a day in my car. I also have a ferocious amount of technology to take with me to do my presentations, laptops, speakers, projectors, pointers etc. I am coping (but only if BBD does the bits I can't be arsed with)
My laptop
Still fecked. I have AVG, I have Norton and Norton 360. I think I have got rid of the nasty trojan but now when I try and log on it says Mozilla uses a proxy server and it doesn't have permission and to contact my service administrator. I have no clue who that is. I need the Internet, I haven't read my horoscope for days. I am writing this on my work laptop and I am terrified I will infect this one, the last one appeared when I clicked on someones photo on their blog.
General Failure of life stuff
I am still not divorced.
I can't find a P60.
I need the P60 to fill out the online tax return.
I need to fill out the online form as I filed my paper return with a page I didn't need missing, oh I'm still mithered about that.
I have a leak in my underground water pipe in Turkey. It appears to be an expensive leak.
I lost my work mobile phone.
I had to fess up this to the IT guy at work. The IT guy cowers under his desk and rocks when he sees it's me calling. I think I am accounting for about 90% of his work problems at the moment.
I am fatter than I was before Christmas, and I was fat then.
Now then, have I cheered you all up? made you realise that your life isn't as bad as you thought?
You're welcome.
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Christmas present buying for boys
If you need a proper "auntiegwens guide to" I can write one but if you are a boy with a short attention span this idea would do.
Buy a beautiful handbag for your beloved.
Inside the beautiful handbag, place a surprise present.
For maximum effect it should look like this
This type of behaviour makes women (well, women in the auntiegwen household) very, very enamoured of the man who bought the present.
Buy a beautiful handbag for your beloved.
Inside the beautiful handbag, place a surprise present.
For maximum effect it should look like this
This type of behaviour makes women (well, women in the auntiegwen household) very, very enamoured of the man who bought the present.
Friday, 24 December 2010
Tech feckin ology part eleventy squillion
I have fecked my new laptop. It has died.
I am writing this on a borrowed laptop, in someone elses kitchen, in Kirby Muxloe (that is a real place)
I should be at home, doing mummy type Christmas prep. I am not. I am 2 glasses of the red down with no tea.
I wish you all a very merry Christmas. I will leave you with a picture of my very tasteful Christmas cake, Nigella is shitting herself!!!
I am writing this on a borrowed laptop, in someone elses kitchen, in Kirby Muxloe (that is a real place)
I should be at home, doing mummy type Christmas prep. I am not. I am 2 glasses of the red down with no tea.
I wish you all a very merry Christmas. I will leave you with a picture of my very tasteful Christmas cake, Nigella is shitting herself!!!
Monday, 20 December 2010
Things I have to do before Christmas
Yes I know I'm a last minute Lil, don't give out to me, I am middle aged, tired and in need of a wife. In no particular order I have to
Find a new hiding place for the Christmas beer, it has been found and decimated by the 2 older teenagers and the Hot Boy who live here. I wish to save the remaining few tins for beer drinking visitors.
Go to the supermarket again, Glory be to God, I'm never out of supermarkets, I go in spend £100 a time on tins of Quality Street, DVDs, batteries and wine. Have I anything for tea? that'll be a no.
Wrap presents.
Oh wait up, I still need to buy presents.
Not get cross with The Beautiful Parents when they continue to uhm and ahr about whether or not they'll be joining me for Christmas, I fully appreciate that they are scared they'll get stranded on the M6 but I kinda need to know one way or the other. It's not beyond them to tell me they won't be coming and then show up as a nice wee surprise for me. I'm not sure my last remaining nerve would cope with that level of surprise or the second guessing of the possible surprise. My parents being here affects when the children see their dad, what I will be doing on Christmas Eve, Christmas night and Boxing day. It also affects how much more food I need to buy, what presents I can buy my nieces (as my parents can take home with them and I don't need to post them) and how tidy my house needs to be. I have no wife and no cleaner, there is just me. Even just typing this has made me tired. And grumpy.
Ice my Christmas cake, my beautiful home made, filled with brandy and good stuff Christmas cake. Not baked by me so it should be safe to eat, I get to decorate it though. I am currently uhm ing and ahr ing about tasteful decor or Christmas on crack, place your bets.
Turn my office back into a dining room if my parents come for Christmas - I know I've done the parents bit but I remembered too late. If they don't come I will just shut the door and we'll eat in the kitchen.
Replace light bulbs in my office/dining room. It is very dark after 3 in there.I did buy light bulbs on one of my many Quality Street buying trips. I just need to buy the right sort of light bulbs next time.
Post Christmas cards, after I've written them obviously.
Remove bag of ice from front doorstep, it was left over from the very upmarket drinks soiree on Saturday night. Nothing beats a bunch of schoolfriends getting together 1st night back from their repsective uni's is there?
Lose 2 stone so I can put it back on by New Years eve, I have a ferocious amount of Quality Street here tormenting me.
Find a takeaway that is open on Christmas day, no one wants to eat a traditional Christmas dinner, the only meat eaters don't like turkey and well okay then, no one wants to eat a dinner cooked from scratch by me.
Get the dishwasher fixed, it only works if you hold the button in, I'm not sure jamming it in with a cocktail stick is a long term (IE over the Christmas holidays) solution.
Fix the arial problem. Apparently we have no TV, I didn't notice, when you switch it on it reads no signal. I am extremely tempted just to leave it, I doubt there would be anything I'd miss.
This is in addition to the normal working, driving offspring places, heating up, laundry (of which there is a fierce amount due to Eldest Beautiful Daughter bringing all her washing and a fair amount of fellow students washing home with her), cleaning and other stuff I do every other week of the year.
Then on Christmas Eve I will go to church and get down on my knees and give heartfelt thanks for my life, because I am blessed, my life is wonderful. I know I moan here week in and week out about my life but genuinely deep down I know how incredibly fortunate I am. Deo Gratias.
I wouldn't trade places with anyone.
Find a new hiding place for the Christmas beer, it has been found and decimated by the 2 older teenagers and the Hot Boy who live here. I wish to save the remaining few tins for beer drinking visitors.
Go to the supermarket again, Glory be to God, I'm never out of supermarkets, I go in spend £100 a time on tins of Quality Street, DVDs, batteries and wine. Have I anything for tea? that'll be a no.
Wrap presents.
Oh wait up, I still need to buy presents.
Not get cross with The Beautiful Parents when they continue to uhm and ahr about whether or not they'll be joining me for Christmas, I fully appreciate that they are scared they'll get stranded on the M6 but I kinda need to know one way or the other. It's not beyond them to tell me they won't be coming and then show up as a nice wee surprise for me. I'm not sure my last remaining nerve would cope with that level of surprise or the second guessing of the possible surprise. My parents being here affects when the children see their dad, what I will be doing on Christmas Eve, Christmas night and Boxing day. It also affects how much more food I need to buy, what presents I can buy my nieces (as my parents can take home with them and I don't need to post them) and how tidy my house needs to be. I have no wife and no cleaner, there is just me. Even just typing this has made me tired. And grumpy.
Ice my Christmas cake, my beautiful home made, filled with brandy and good stuff Christmas cake. Not baked by me so it should be safe to eat, I get to decorate it though. I am currently uhm ing and ahr ing about tasteful decor or Christmas on crack, place your bets.
Turn my office back into a dining room if my parents come for Christmas - I know I've done the parents bit but I remembered too late. If they don't come I will just shut the door and we'll eat in the kitchen.
Replace light bulbs in my office/dining room. It is very dark after 3 in there.I did buy light bulbs on one of my many Quality Street buying trips. I just need to buy the right sort of light bulbs next time.
Post Christmas cards, after I've written them obviously.
Remove bag of ice from front doorstep, it was left over from the very upmarket drinks soiree on Saturday night. Nothing beats a bunch of schoolfriends getting together 1st night back from their repsective uni's is there?
Lose 2 stone so I can put it back on by New Years eve, I have a ferocious amount of Quality Street here tormenting me.
Find a takeaway that is open on Christmas day, no one wants to eat a traditional Christmas dinner, the only meat eaters don't like turkey and well okay then, no one wants to eat a dinner cooked from scratch by me.
Get the dishwasher fixed, it only works if you hold the button in, I'm not sure jamming it in with a cocktail stick is a long term (IE over the Christmas holidays) solution.
Fix the arial problem. Apparently we have no TV, I didn't notice, when you switch it on it reads no signal. I am extremely tempted just to leave it, I doubt there would be anything I'd miss.
This is in addition to the normal working, driving offspring places, heating up, laundry (of which there is a fierce amount due to Eldest Beautiful Daughter bringing all her washing and a fair amount of fellow students washing home with her), cleaning and other stuff I do every other week of the year.
Then on Christmas Eve I will go to church and get down on my knees and give heartfelt thanks for my life, because I am blessed, my life is wonderful. I know I moan here week in and week out about my life but genuinely deep down I know how incredibly fortunate I am. Deo Gratias.
I wouldn't trade places with anyone.
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Things that make your auntie cheerful
Yes, I know I'm old enough to know better but it just makes me laugh.
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Things I don't understand part eleventy squillion
In the Cath Kidston shop in Bicester today there were 2 security guards at the door. How nasty were they expecting middle aged woman deprived of retro floral household porn to get?
Feck, even last Tuesday this place only had 1 security guard.
Feck, even last Tuesday this place only had 1 security guard.
Friday, 10 December 2010
TMI
You know it's time to de friend your son on facebook when you read
Formspring
"You ever kissed a boy?"
Answer
"yeah"
So, you have to ask, don't you?
"Did you really kiss a boy?"
"Yeah, it was a dare, I was drunk"
I'm going back to Mummy denial land, this time I'm keeping the duvet pulled over my head.
Formspring
"You ever kissed a boy?"
Answer
"yeah"
So, you have to ask, don't you?
"Did you really kiss a boy?"
"Yeah, it was a dare, I was drunk"
I'm going back to Mummy denial land, this time I'm keeping the duvet pulled over my head.
Thursday, 9 December 2010
The Big Chill
I feel the cold, my default temperature setting is "a bit chilly", I blame it on being born in the summer. I like it hot. No sniggering at the back please. I can sunbathe in 45 degree heat, you will never hear me say I'm too warm. Never. It's a shame I live in a cold place, I am more suited to somewhere like Hades, climatically speaking.
Readers, my central heating has broken down. I have no heat and no hot water. I have no fires or other means of heating my house. There is a teeny tiny electric wall heater in my winter fridge, you may call it a conservatory? This means if I had a barometer it would read "Fecking Freezing"
This is my own personal doom. I am not good in the cold. Not good at all. I am tetchy, significantly more tetchy than normal. I am writing this in bed, attired in jammies, tracky bottoms, a rugby thermal top, a fleece, thermal socks and a cardigan awaiting someone who I will love for evermore coming to fix it. I am practising being a poor pensioner, I feel I've nailed it.
Please feel free to drop by and hug me to warm me up. Or to point and laugh at my attire, your choice.
Update 3pm
My boiler was indeed repaired and it stayed on for an hour, it's gone off again now. I will get another engineer after 6pm tomorrow to try and refix it. I am a very chilly auntie again.
Update 6pm
The company I pay stupid amounts of money to every month to fix these problems have called to reschedule the engineer due to sheer volume of central heating breakdowns. The first available slot is next Wednesday. They did apologize profusely and tell me I could buy electric heaters up to a limit of £50 and they would refund the money. They also offered to reimburse me if I found someone else to fix my boiler whilst at the same time telling me that they have taken on every local engineer they could find. As a last resort they have said I can check into a local hotel.
Not a very happy auntie this night.
Readers, my central heating has broken down. I have no heat and no hot water. I have no fires or other means of heating my house. There is a teeny tiny electric wall heater in my winter fridge, you may call it a conservatory? This means if I had a barometer it would read "Fecking Freezing"
This is my own personal doom. I am not good in the cold. Not good at all. I am tetchy, significantly more tetchy than normal. I am writing this in bed, attired in jammies, tracky bottoms, a rugby thermal top, a fleece, thermal socks and a cardigan awaiting someone who I will love for evermore coming to fix it. I am practising being a poor pensioner, I feel I've nailed it.
Please feel free to drop by and hug me to warm me up. Or to point and laugh at my attire, your choice.
Update 3pm
My boiler was indeed repaired and it stayed on for an hour, it's gone off again now. I will get another engineer after 6pm tomorrow to try and refix it. I am a very chilly auntie again.
Update 6pm
The company I pay stupid amounts of money to every month to fix these problems have called to reschedule the engineer due to sheer volume of central heating breakdowns. The first available slot is next Wednesday. They did apologize profusely and tell me I could buy electric heaters up to a limit of £50 and they would refund the money. They also offered to reimburse me if I found someone else to fix my boiler whilst at the same time telling me that they have taken on every local engineer they could find. As a last resort they have said I can check into a local hotel.
Not a very happy auntie this night.
Monday, 6 December 2010
Oh Christmas Tree
I must warn you, if you are of a Bah Humbug disposition you may wish to avoid visiting for the next few weeks as there may be a whiff of the seasons around the posts. I am very keen on Christmas.
I'm not overly keen on the preparation though, due to my can't be arsed gene. I love all the decor, the food, the presents etc and I would love them even more if I didn't have to facilitate it. The Beautiful Children probably are because they don't. The exception to this is my Christmas tree, I love doing my tree.
On Sunday I have to put up the tree, The Beautiful Son has to get the tree down from the attic because I have watched Michael McIntyre and know that as a woman I'm not allowed in the loft.
The Beautiful Son and Beautiful Baby Daughter decide they want to help me. Now you think I'd be glad but I'm not. I am a bit possessive of my tree and yes I do know I keep saying my tree. It is mine, fully mine, I only let the others look at it because I'm kind.
I like my tree to look nice, this is why I don't want help. I have been decorating my own Christmas tree since I was 22 and that is a very long time ago, I put on Christmas music, light my Crabtree and Evelyn Noel candle and have a tasteful one colour theme tree. I do a good tree. The children have their own tree, it looks like Christmas on crack, it has every colour ever known and is done up like the tinkers dog. They can't be arsed with 2 trees this year, they just want the one, my one.
I relent, they can help, he is 15, she is 14, they're not little anymore, in fact he can now reach the top of the tree and save me standing on a chair. We have the lovely Christmas smelling candle, we have the lovely Christmas music. At the end we have a not quite as lovely as if I'd done it myself Christmas tree.
I was slightly hurt when he compared me to Stalin and she compared me to Monica from Friends.
Still, David looks cheerful in his Santa hat, doesn't he?
Friday, 3 December 2010
Nature v Nurture
The Beautiful Son and his first girlfriend have split up. Eldest Beautiful Daughter read it on the book of face and told me. I told Beautiful Baby Daughter and explained that although he annoys the crap out of her, she was to make allowances and under no circumstances give him a hard time.
I asked him how he was and he actually said "These things happen, it just wasn't working" I was a nice kind Mummy and didn't laugh, it was a 6 month thing, that's fairly heavy duty at his age.
Readers, we were worn out being nice to him, I was fetching cups of coffee in bed for him, watching what he wanted on TV, ordering pizza in, trying really, really hard to wrap him up in a big blanket of love.
I shouldn't have bothered.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter read his Formspring (for the middle aged non facebookers amongst you it is a thing where you can ask him anything and you can remain anonymous)
On this Formspring there were several enquiries asking why he'd dumped her, heavy duty guilt about how miserable she is, lots of comments on the new leggy blonde thing who has been worshipping at the altar of Jack for several months and a few enquiries about his parentage. I can assure you I was married to his dad, I have the lawyers bill to prove it.
I was not happy.
Neither were his sisters.
So, this bold boy of mine, who had been brought up to respect, no, actually revere women has dumped a lovely wee girl, has had a replacement lined up, had us, the women in his life in flitters looking after him because we think he's been dumped and not cracked a light?
As his big sister says "We fail, he's turned into a bloke"
I asked him how he was and he actually said "These things happen, it just wasn't working" I was a nice kind Mummy and didn't laugh, it was a 6 month thing, that's fairly heavy duty at his age.
Readers, we were worn out being nice to him, I was fetching cups of coffee in bed for him, watching what he wanted on TV, ordering pizza in, trying really, really hard to wrap him up in a big blanket of love.
I shouldn't have bothered.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter read his Formspring (for the middle aged non facebookers amongst you it is a thing where you can ask him anything and you can remain anonymous)
On this Formspring there were several enquiries asking why he'd dumped her, heavy duty guilt about how miserable she is, lots of comments on the new leggy blonde thing who has been worshipping at the altar of Jack for several months and a few enquiries about his parentage. I can assure you I was married to his dad, I have the lawyers bill to prove it.
I was not happy.
Neither were his sisters.
So, this bold boy of mine, who had been brought up to respect, no, actually revere women has dumped a lovely wee girl, has had a replacement lined up, had us, the women in his life in flitters looking after him because we think he's been dumped and not cracked a light?
As his big sister says "We fail, he's turned into a bloke"
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Eleven reasons you should visit my country
Scotland is a beautiful, beautiful place.
The people are friendly and funny (well, most of us are. Some are a bit po faced, just avoid them, they're probably incomers)
The cities have amazing architecture, really good shops, Princes Square in Glasgow is so beautiful.There are masses of galleries/museums and suchlike, most of which are free.
I can tell you good places to go in Glasgow & Edinburgh, special hints and tips on hotels, bars, restaurants, clubs (who am I kidding it's been at least 2 decades since my booty was shook - I can tell you nice places to get cake though) that's never to be sniffed at, cake is very cheering.
We have lovely food and great restaurants. It's not all deep fried mars bars.
I can do good shop porn for you. In George St in Edinburgh there's a Space NK, Jigsaw, LK Bennett and a gorgeous jeweller called Lime Blue in an almost unbroken run. How good is that?
You are allowed to go round peoples houses on a Sunday afternoon in open house sale viewing. I always go to very posh places in the New Town and pretend I'm moving back. I love a good nosey round someones house. What? like I didn't sell 3 houses in Edinburgh and have nosey people coming round to look at my house? I'm entitled
A rugby match at Murrayfield with drinking after is a not too shabby way to spend an afternoon.
If there's rugby, there'll be kilts, men in kilts are so sexy, are you needing some kilt porn to entice you? May I present for your delectation... Chris Cusiter
You'd be disappointed if he didn't make an appearance, wouldn't you?
If you want to do outdoorsy type stuff, you can go walking, climbing, fishing, skiing, hitting a ball with a stick (I believe you Y chromosone people call it golf?) You can even do surfing (that might be a wee bit chilly)
We have beautiful beaches, shut up, we do so
and
Come visit, you'll love it
Happy St Andrews Day
The people are friendly and funny (well, most of us are. Some are a bit po faced, just avoid them, they're probably incomers)
The cities have amazing architecture, really good shops, Princes Square in Glasgow is so beautiful.There are masses of galleries/museums and suchlike, most of which are free.
I can tell you good places to go in Glasgow & Edinburgh, special hints and tips on hotels, bars, restaurants, clubs (who am I kidding it's been at least 2 decades since my booty was shook - I can tell you nice places to get cake though) that's never to be sniffed at, cake is very cheering.
We have lovely food and great restaurants. It's not all deep fried mars bars.
I can do good shop porn for you. In George St in Edinburgh there's a Space NK, Jigsaw, LK Bennett and a gorgeous jeweller called Lime Blue in an almost unbroken run. How good is that?
You are allowed to go round peoples houses on a Sunday afternoon in open house sale viewing. I always go to very posh places in the New Town and pretend I'm moving back. I love a good nosey round someones house. What? like I didn't sell 3 houses in Edinburgh and have nosey people coming round to look at my house? I'm entitled
A rugby match at Murrayfield with drinking after is a not too shabby way to spend an afternoon.
If there's rugby, there'll be kilts, men in kilts are so sexy, are you needing some kilt porn to entice you? May I present for your delectation... Chris Cusiter
You'd be disappointed if he didn't make an appearance, wouldn't you?
If you want to do outdoorsy type stuff, you can go walking, climbing, fishing, skiing, hitting a ball with a stick (I believe you Y chromosone people call it golf?) You can even do surfing (that might be a wee bit chilly)
We have beautiful beaches, shut up, we do so
and
Come visit, you'll love it
Happy St Andrews Day
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Eleven things I'd like for Christmas
I love Christmas. I love it with a passion. I love it with childlike enthusiasm, I love the laying around in your jammies, eating and drinking and watching Love Actually and Elf on a loop. I love the happiness, the decorations, the smell of my Christmas candles.
And I love presents.
I am going to put false modesty aside, I am shit hot at buying presents for my loved ones. My offspring will mention something in passing and I will search for hours to get it. I will be on red alert watching the things people pick up and look longingly at and I will drive back to buy it. I will wrap it beautifully, I use ribbon and all sorts of things that cost me too much and aren't strictly necessary. This year I have a Shaker type wrapping thang going on, cotton ribbon in cream and red saying Merry Christmas and red tin hearts bearing cheery festive greetings to tie on.
I give good gift...snort snort, winky face ;)
Now, I am a selfish girl at heart. I love getting presents and my family are crap at them. My friends are exempt, they are good gift givers. Occasionally I have had a man on the go around the festivities and they have varied wildly in the gift giving stakes. The children are totally pants, if it's not for them their can't be arsed gene kicks in. My parents and sister just moan about how difficult to buy for I am and opt out completely. My mother hasn't bought me a present since the 80's and my sister palms off a candle on me. I am fussy about candles, my sister not so much, she buys any old lump of wax with a wick.
Total crap
This year I am thinking of posting a Christmas wish list on my Facebook and you know I will have to share it with you, in case any of my lovely bloggy chums drop big fat hints to the children or win the lottery.
Or both.
See, I told you I was selfish.
Je voudrais (sounds so much nicer, dontcha think?)
"One day" by David Nicholls. I want a book I can read from start to finish and lose myself in and I really love the idea behind this one.
Some very sexy nail varnish as I want the only bit of me that's not getting fatter by the second to look sleek and svelte and polished. Because we all know I'm not.
A bit of Billy, because watching the great BC with my great BC and hearing them weep with laughter is a pretty fabby way to spend a few hours. Even if people think I'm a bad Mummy for letting my beautiful children watch a sweary man. They live with a sweary mum, I think they'll cope.
Anything by Divine, they've taken over from Fruit and nut toblerones. I know, I couldn't believe it either, I'm a chocolate floozy
You can't have festive without the fizz I get overly excited at the thought of pink champagne, and if that makes me a cultural peasant I don't care, I like girly pink champagne.
My Christmas candle, it really, really smells like Christmas to me, I love it, love it, love it. I start using all of these things from December 1st. My house smells gorgeous.
Fitflop slippers You know me and my fitflops but now I'm working from home, I really need slippers. They are now a workwear essential, to go with my workwear jammies.
Yes I know it's a grey cardie but it's an M and S grey cardie I feel that 15 grey cardigans is the exact number of grey cardies a middle aged woman of 44 should have. I only have 14, I'm calling middleagedwomanline, I am deprived.
And if we're getting silly and it is Christmas and I have been good...
And we continue in a flight of fancy mode...
How about this bit of Chanel porn for you
It would be rude and disrespectful not to have some Louboutin porn to go with your handbag porn, wouldn't it?
And Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a little sparkle The black diamonds are just the cut of aunties jib.
And I love presents.
I am going to put false modesty aside, I am shit hot at buying presents for my loved ones. My offspring will mention something in passing and I will search for hours to get it. I will be on red alert watching the things people pick up and look longingly at and I will drive back to buy it. I will wrap it beautifully, I use ribbon and all sorts of things that cost me too much and aren't strictly necessary. This year I have a Shaker type wrapping thang going on, cotton ribbon in cream and red saying Merry Christmas and red tin hearts bearing cheery festive greetings to tie on.
I give good gift...snort snort, winky face ;)
Now, I am a selfish girl at heart. I love getting presents and my family are crap at them. My friends are exempt, they are good gift givers. Occasionally I have had a man on the go around the festivities and they have varied wildly in the gift giving stakes. The children are totally pants, if it's not for them their can't be arsed gene kicks in. My parents and sister just moan about how difficult to buy for I am and opt out completely. My mother hasn't bought me a present since the 80's and my sister palms off a candle on me. I am fussy about candles, my sister not so much, she buys any old lump of wax with a wick.
Total crap
This year I am thinking of posting a Christmas wish list on my Facebook and you know I will have to share it with you, in case any of my lovely bloggy chums drop big fat hints to the children or win the lottery.
Or both.
See, I told you I was selfish.
Je voudrais (sounds so much nicer, dontcha think?)
"One day" by David Nicholls. I want a book I can read from start to finish and lose myself in and I really love the idea behind this one.
Some very sexy nail varnish as I want the only bit of me that's not getting fatter by the second to look sleek and svelte and polished. Because we all know I'm not.
A bit of Billy, because watching the great BC with my great BC and hearing them weep with laughter is a pretty fabby way to spend a few hours. Even if people think I'm a bad Mummy for letting my beautiful children watch a sweary man. They live with a sweary mum, I think they'll cope.
Anything by Divine, they've taken over from Fruit and nut toblerones. I know, I couldn't believe it either, I'm a chocolate floozy
You can't have festive without the fizz I get overly excited at the thought of pink champagne, and if that makes me a cultural peasant I don't care, I like girly pink champagne.
My Christmas candle, it really, really smells like Christmas to me, I love it, love it, love it. I start using all of these things from December 1st. My house smells gorgeous.
Fitflop slippers You know me and my fitflops but now I'm working from home, I really need slippers. They are now a workwear essential, to go with my workwear jammies.
Yes I know it's a grey cardie but it's an M and S grey cardie I feel that 15 grey cardigans is the exact number of grey cardies a middle aged woman of 44 should have. I only have 14, I'm calling middleagedwomanline, I am deprived.
And if we're getting silly and it is Christmas and I have been good...
And we continue in a flight of fancy mode...
How about this bit of Chanel porn for you
It would be rude and disrespectful not to have some Louboutin porn to go with your handbag porn, wouldn't it?
And Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a little sparkle The black diamonds are just the cut of aunties jib.
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Eleven people I'd like to be for a day
Don't get me wrong, my life is not too shabby but wouldn't it be interesting to just slip on someone else, just for one day.
I'd quite like to try on these lovely people for size...
Sharleen Spiteri
Carrie Bradshaw
Scarlett O'Hara
Brandon Flowers
The Prime Minister
Idina Sackville
Chris Paterson
Billy Connolly
Rankin
Daphne Du Maurier
Debo Duchess of Devonshire
Your go...
I'd quite like to try on these lovely people for size...
Sharleen Spiteri
Carrie Bradshaw
Scarlett O'Hara
Brandon Flowers
The Prime Minister
Idina Sackville
Chris Paterson
Billy Connolly
Rankin
Daphne Du Maurier
Debo Duchess of Devonshire
Your go...
Friday, 26 November 2010
Eleven films I could watch over and over again
Much as I'd love to be sophisticated and cultured, I'm a bit mainstream in my film tastes.
Gregory's Girl - my very favourite movie of all time, it came out just as I was a teenager in a school in Glasgow, it was amazing seeing what my reality was on the big screen.
The English Patient - because Kristin Scott Thomas and Ralph Fiennes are just so in love.
Four Weddings and a Funeral - Hugh Grant, oh I so would
Braveheart - because I'm parochial, we all know that
Love Actually - because it makes me happy and I am a Christmas fanatic.
Sleepless in Seattle - oh the romance thaaang again, my name is auntiegwen and I am a mush junkie
Elf - who could not love Elf?
Cinema Paradiso - so so beautiful
Rocky Horror Picture Show - because I'm just a sweet transvestite (I'm not really)
Grease - more romance but less sickly sweet than some of the others
The Commitments - ooh it makes me laugh out loud, still, even now
Would you like to pop round your aunties and watch a movie? You can bring one or eleven of your own.
Gregory's Girl - my very favourite movie of all time, it came out just as I was a teenager in a school in Glasgow, it was amazing seeing what my reality was on the big screen.
The English Patient - because Kristin Scott Thomas and Ralph Fiennes are just so in love.
Four Weddings and a Funeral - Hugh Grant, oh I so would
Braveheart - because I'm parochial, we all know that
Love Actually - because it makes me happy and I am a Christmas fanatic.
Sleepless in Seattle - oh the romance thaaang again, my name is auntiegwen and I am a mush junkie
Elf - who could not love Elf?
Cinema Paradiso - so so beautiful
Rocky Horror Picture Show - because I'm just a sweet transvestite (I'm not really)
Grease - more romance but less sickly sweet than some of the others
The Commitments - ooh it makes me laugh out loud, still, even now
Would you like to pop round your aunties and watch a movie? You can bring one or eleven of your own.
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Eleven reasons to be extremely grateful
I have the 3 best children in the world, bar your own of course.
I am loved, boy am I loved. That's incredibly lucky.
I have amazing friends.
I am disgustingly healthy.
I have never known real hardship in my life.
I have freedom of choice (well, if I run it past the children first.)
I am not completely insolvent, more skint in style, well, not real style because I'm a bit peasanty.
I am generally quite happy and with the luxury of a blog, when I'm not, I do a rantie auntie and you lovely people all pop by and cheer me up.
I have a permanent job now, Glory be to God in the highest, it pays a lot more money than before, the colleagues I've met have gone out of their way to be helpful and I love my new boss. I keep thinking of her like she's my friend, because she's lovely. I am extremely grateful for my job.
The Beautiful Parents are only staying for 6 days and not 14, c'mon gimme a break, I love them but 14 days is a looooong time.
I am alive.
I am loved, boy am I loved. That's incredibly lucky.
I have amazing friends.
I am disgustingly healthy.
I have never known real hardship in my life.
I have freedom of choice (well, if I run it past the children first.)
I am not completely insolvent, more skint in style, well, not real style because I'm a bit peasanty.
I am generally quite happy and with the luxury of a blog, when I'm not, I do a rantie auntie and you lovely people all pop by and cheer me up.
I have a permanent job now, Glory be to God in the highest, it pays a lot more money than before, the colleagues I've met have gone out of their way to be helpful and I love my new boss. I keep thinking of her like she's my friend, because she's lovely. I am extremely grateful for my job.
The Beautiful Parents are only staying for 6 days and not 14, c'mon gimme a break, I love them but 14 days is a looooong time.
I am alive.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Eleven things I should have done
Kept my braces on, settle yourself, on my teeth, have you any clue how much it's going to cost me to have them repaired?
Learned how to enjoy cooking. Oh I can do it, it just bores the bejaysus out of me.
Not had 3 children in 4 years, that may have contributed significantly to my tiredness levels. Which are considerable.
Taught my children to be regular functioning humans, they are as capable now as they were at 4. Yes, I know that is my fault.
Kept my house in Edinburgh and rented it out, it'd be worth shedloads now.
Learned to type properly and not be afeared of technology.
Got an iphone instead of my crackberry
Twitter, I keep thinking I should join in but I just can't be arsed.
Thought slightly more about how much I hate traffic and driving before I accepted a job that necessitated my driving across 5 counties.
Saved some money, not to the detriment of all enjoyment, just a wee bit, for a rainy day.
Had a slightly more planned approach to life, all right, any kind of a plan would be welcome.
Learned how to enjoy cooking. Oh I can do it, it just bores the bejaysus out of me.
Not had 3 children in 4 years, that may have contributed significantly to my tiredness levels. Which are considerable.
Taught my children to be regular functioning humans, they are as capable now as they were at 4. Yes, I know that is my fault.
Kept my house in Edinburgh and rented it out, it'd be worth shedloads now.
Learned to type properly and not be afeared of technology.
Got an iphone instead of my crackberry
Twitter, I keep thinking I should join in but I just can't be arsed.
Thought slightly more about how much I hate traffic and driving before I accepted a job that necessitated my driving across 5 counties.
Saved some money, not to the detriment of all enjoyment, just a wee bit, for a rainy day.
Had a slightly more planned approach to life, all right, any kind of a plan would be welcome.
Friday, 19 November 2010
Eleven reasons I haven't posted for a week
I am a bad blogger, feel free to berate me, please have my eleven excuses. I have been missing in bloggy action this week because
I started a new job
I have to go and meet people at my new job
This meeting of people takes me to far far away (well, Chesterfield on Wednesday and yesterday long day visiting Gainsborough, Spalding and Boston and I'd never even been to Lincolnshire before yesterday)
I am having to do masses of driving (not really in my skill set but at least I have my own car back)
As I will be doing eleventy squillion miles per year, maybe I should accept the company car I have been offered? The thought of having to work out how much it will cost and the tax implications makes my brain switch off. I have the choice of an Astra or an Astra. The level of my decision making is "does it come in metallic purple?" please decide for me then if it all goes wrong I will blame you.
The meeting of people and the concentrating on the new things and the pretending to be both nice and clever is exhausting.
The children still need feeding and driving places.
The housework fairy is on strike
I am still middle aged and therefore extremely tired
My Beautiful Son and his not as calm as it's been life
And I have been busy with a really lovely and exciting secret thing and as it's in it's early stages I will keep it under wraps a bit longer.
I started a new job
I have to go and meet people at my new job
This meeting of people takes me to far far away (well, Chesterfield on Wednesday and yesterday long day visiting Gainsborough, Spalding and Boston and I'd never even been to Lincolnshire before yesterday)
I am having to do masses of driving (not really in my skill set but at least I have my own car back)
As I will be doing eleventy squillion miles per year, maybe I should accept the company car I have been offered? The thought of having to work out how much it will cost and the tax implications makes my brain switch off. I have the choice of an Astra or an Astra. The level of my decision making is "does it come in metallic purple?" please decide for me then if it all goes wrong I will blame you.
The meeting of people and the concentrating on the new things and the pretending to be both nice and clever is exhausting.
The children still need feeding and driving places.
The housework fairy is on strike
I am still middle aged and therefore extremely tired
My Beautiful Son and his not as calm as it's been life
And I have been busy with a really lovely and exciting secret thing and as it's in it's early stages I will keep it under wraps a bit longer.
Friday, 12 November 2010
Eleven things I would really like to say
This post contains writing of a rantie auntie nature. There is a lot of swearing in it, even for me. You've been warned.
PS - if you're new here, I am a self confessed passive aggressive with a bit of a martyr complex, I think things, seethe about things and then eventually blog about them. This post is a classic example. There is a whiff of self pity and a dose of the "Poor me's" about it too.
At your own risk.
To the repair garage when they phoned me yesterday
Give me back my fecking car.
I am extremely cross that you have had my car for 10 days now and it's only today you're telling me you're still waiting for paint. The missing part of the paintwork is less than the size of a 10p piece. I hate the Fiesta you have given me, with a passion, I am used to a high car, this is so low, it feels like my arse is on the floor. I start my new job on Monday and I will be doing lots of driving as I have a whole region to cover, I want to do it in my own car. Give me my car back now, you incompetent bunch of "finding wee jobs to do because it's an insurance claim" bastards.
To the insurance company
Would you give yourself peace
Phone calls, claim forms, drawing diagrams, questions that I can't answer - I have no idea how wide the road was, am I meant to go measure it? etc
To my beautiful parents
No, for the love of God, not two weeks
I love you, I do. I think we will all love each other a lot less if you come stay with me for 2 weeks at Christmas. I will have just started my new job and have limited holidays I can take. I am supposed to be working from home, this will be difficult when I have a house full of people. You will need driving around, entertaining and feeding, none of which are in my skill set. I wish to spend what time I have off in my jammies, mainlining Baileys and fruit and nut toblerones. Interspersed with naps. I do not want to be judged on how clean my house is (it won't be), how I only cook 1 meal a fortnight from scratch (I know I'm crap) and I really don't want my tee total mother looking at me like I'm on a slippery slope when I have a 2nd glass of wine with my Christmas dinner (I will need it)
To The Tax Office
Aw fur fucks sake, gimme a break
I understand that it is indeed, again, my fault, that I failed to enclose 1 sheet of my foreign tax return. Again, mea culpa. I am thinking of getting it tattooed on me. The missing sheet, as you so kindly pointed out, was one I didn't need to fill in anyway. So if I didn't need it and it makes no difference, could you just not have printed off one and stuck it in? Would that not have been quicker and kinder, for both of us?
To My Beautiful Eldest Daughter
Stop moaning about having no money and get a job
I understand that this week you have been in placement. I completely empathise that it is tiring to do a full day without a wee nap. I also note that this is the first full week you've put in for 2 years thanks to your study periods in your last 2 years at school. Most of us do this week in and week out. Without complaint (well, much complaint) However, you knew you needed a part time job over the summer holidays and in term time. You have known this for at least 6 months. You have not applied yourself to finding employment. If you showed the same level of enthusiasm as you do to new shoes or partaying, you'd be employed. I am keeping my end of the bargain by driving you back and forth to uni, doing your laundry and ironing and giving you £60 a week to live on so play fair.
To The Beautiful Son
GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP
Said through a megaphone. Right in your ear. I have to wake up at 6am to get you up for your paper round. 6am rises make me cranky. More cranky than usual. Personally, I don't need to wake up till 7.30am, on a Saturday I don't have to get up at all. When I get up at 6, I can't get back to sleep. This also makes me cranky. Is there a theme emerging? Set an alarm on one of the many electrical appliances I have provided for your enjoyment, your phone, your telly, your xbox or your ipod. Take your pick.
To my Beautiful Baby Daughter
Because I fecking well said so
I realise that you are 14 and full of fizzing hormones. I understand that you are trying to find your place within school, within your peer group and even within your family. I know you hate your life at present, you are 14, it comes with the spots. Please, for the love of God, do not question every single thing I ask you to do. I have one nerve left and you are tapdancing all over it. You will have to live with me for another 5 years, if you keep this level of confrontation up it will be the most miserable 5 years of my/your/our lives. And I am counting my chronically awful teenage years in that. And mine were fucking miserable.
To my solicitor
Stop with the letters
I understand you gave me an estimate of costs. I understand that we may go over it because my ex and I cannot agree on a financial settlement. But every time you write to me or call me or email me it costs me money. Please don't write to tell me we're still within the estimate or nearly over it.
To the exmrauntiegwens solicitor
Get a grip
Please remember I am a real person, with feelings, no matter what you have heard to the contrary. Please also try and inject a dose of reality into your propositions, the bandying of letters back and forth costs me (and him) money, money I definitely don't have.
When I read that "Mrs auntiegwen and her family frequently holiday at the property in Turkey and our client would be happy for them to purchase his share" I have to resist the urge to hoot with derisory laughter. Are you suggesting I ask The Beautiful Son for some of his paper round or ask Beautiful Baby Daughter to empty her piggy bank? My mortgage in England is, even with my new improved salary, ELEVEN times my annual salary, that's right, eleven. Now what bank is going to lend me thirteen times my salary to buy him out of the holiday home as well? The Bank of Make Believe? The Fairy Godmother of Divorcees Bank? The Bank of Stupid?
To the ex mrauntiegwen
You got me
This could be a whole post in itself. I don't want you to come to my house to see the children on Sunday, that day will be the day of our first date 25 years on. I don't want you there. I can barely bring myself to be civil to you.
I knew when we started negotiating money we wouldn't agree. It is extremely fair of you to give me all the equity in the mortgaged to the hilt house in England. It is also extremely generous of you to give me 60% of the house in Turkey, the one we have been trying and failing for the last 4 years to sell. I wish I had stuck to being "risk averse" as you called me and stopped myself becoming "asset rich, cash poor" but with you having the degree in Financial Services and all those years working in a bank, I took your financial advice.
I understand that legally once your children finish the school term that they are 18 your financial obligation ends.
Legally, not morally.
I understand that legally when your son turns 18 you can stop paying for him.
When that happens, I will be unable to pay the mortgage, because it is ELEVEN times my annual salary. I cannot do that on my own, if I live with someone or remarry before October 2015 the house will have to be sold anyway.
That's fine because as there is only 1 night in the week (Wednesday) that I do not have to drive and collect one of the children from an activity and as they only spend 2 Saturdays a month with you, it's extremely unlikely I would be able to meet and develop a meaningful relationship with anyone anyway. And on those 2 Saturdays a month, I most always have the elder of the children home from uni plus Hot Boy.
What this all means is your younger daughter, the one who is the most vulnerable and volatile of all, will have to move house in the first year of her A levels. I will be unable to afford another property in this area so she will have to leave here, where she has lived since she was 3 and move away from her friends. And that will be devastating for her.
Legally you can do this, you will give me the 10% of your salary the CSA says is fair and you have offered £150 per month spousal maintenance. But that will not mean she can stay in her home till she finishes her A levels. Legal but not moral.
You can explain it to her.
To God
Are you kidding me?
Whatever I did in my last life it must have been bad. I apologize unreservedly for the shit I must have been. Mea fucking culpa.
PS - if you're new here, I am a self confessed passive aggressive with a bit of a martyr complex, I think things, seethe about things and then eventually blog about them. This post is a classic example. There is a whiff of self pity and a dose of the "Poor me's" about it too.
At your own risk.
To the repair garage when they phoned me yesterday
Give me back my fecking car.
I am extremely cross that you have had my car for 10 days now and it's only today you're telling me you're still waiting for paint. The missing part of the paintwork is less than the size of a 10p piece. I hate the Fiesta you have given me, with a passion, I am used to a high car, this is so low, it feels like my arse is on the floor. I start my new job on Monday and I will be doing lots of driving as I have a whole region to cover, I want to do it in my own car. Give me my car back now, you incompetent bunch of "finding wee jobs to do because it's an insurance claim" bastards.
To the insurance company
Would you give yourself peace
Phone calls, claim forms, drawing diagrams, questions that I can't answer - I have no idea how wide the road was, am I meant to go measure it? etc
To my beautiful parents
No, for the love of God, not two weeks
I love you, I do. I think we will all love each other a lot less if you come stay with me for 2 weeks at Christmas. I will have just started my new job and have limited holidays I can take. I am supposed to be working from home, this will be difficult when I have a house full of people. You will need driving around, entertaining and feeding, none of which are in my skill set. I wish to spend what time I have off in my jammies, mainlining Baileys and fruit and nut toblerones. Interspersed with naps. I do not want to be judged on how clean my house is (it won't be), how I only cook 1 meal a fortnight from scratch (I know I'm crap) and I really don't want my tee total mother looking at me like I'm on a slippery slope when I have a 2nd glass of wine with my Christmas dinner (I will need it)
To The Tax Office
Aw fur fucks sake, gimme a break
I understand that it is indeed, again, my fault, that I failed to enclose 1 sheet of my foreign tax return. Again, mea culpa. I am thinking of getting it tattooed on me. The missing sheet, as you so kindly pointed out, was one I didn't need to fill in anyway. So if I didn't need it and it makes no difference, could you just not have printed off one and stuck it in? Would that not have been quicker and kinder, for both of us?
To My Beautiful Eldest Daughter
Stop moaning about having no money and get a job
I understand that this week you have been in placement. I completely empathise that it is tiring to do a full day without a wee nap. I also note that this is the first full week you've put in for 2 years thanks to your study periods in your last 2 years at school. Most of us do this week in and week out. Without complaint (well, much complaint) However, you knew you needed a part time job over the summer holidays and in term time. You have known this for at least 6 months. You have not applied yourself to finding employment. If you showed the same level of enthusiasm as you do to new shoes or partaying, you'd be employed. I am keeping my end of the bargain by driving you back and forth to uni, doing your laundry and ironing and giving you £60 a week to live on so play fair.
To The Beautiful Son
GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP
Said through a megaphone. Right in your ear. I have to wake up at 6am to get you up for your paper round. 6am rises make me cranky. More cranky than usual. Personally, I don't need to wake up till 7.30am, on a Saturday I don't have to get up at all. When I get up at 6, I can't get back to sleep. This also makes me cranky. Is there a theme emerging? Set an alarm on one of the many electrical appliances I have provided for your enjoyment, your phone, your telly, your xbox or your ipod. Take your pick.
To my Beautiful Baby Daughter
Because I fecking well said so
I realise that you are 14 and full of fizzing hormones. I understand that you are trying to find your place within school, within your peer group and even within your family. I know you hate your life at present, you are 14, it comes with the spots. Please, for the love of God, do not question every single thing I ask you to do. I have one nerve left and you are tapdancing all over it. You will have to live with me for another 5 years, if you keep this level of confrontation up it will be the most miserable 5 years of my/your/our lives. And I am counting my chronically awful teenage years in that. And mine were fucking miserable.
To my solicitor
Stop with the letters
I understand you gave me an estimate of costs. I understand that we may go over it because my ex and I cannot agree on a financial settlement. But every time you write to me or call me or email me it costs me money. Please don't write to tell me we're still within the estimate or nearly over it.
To the exmrauntiegwens solicitor
Get a grip
Please remember I am a real person, with feelings, no matter what you have heard to the contrary. Please also try and inject a dose of reality into your propositions, the bandying of letters back and forth costs me (and him) money, money I definitely don't have.
When I read that "Mrs auntiegwen and her family frequently holiday at the property in Turkey and our client would be happy for them to purchase his share" I have to resist the urge to hoot with derisory laughter. Are you suggesting I ask The Beautiful Son for some of his paper round or ask Beautiful Baby Daughter to empty her piggy bank? My mortgage in England is, even with my new improved salary, ELEVEN times my annual salary, that's right, eleven. Now what bank is going to lend me thirteen times my salary to buy him out of the holiday home as well? The Bank of Make Believe? The Fairy Godmother of Divorcees Bank? The Bank of Stupid?
To the ex mrauntiegwen
You got me
This could be a whole post in itself. I don't want you to come to my house to see the children on Sunday, that day will be the day of our first date 25 years on. I don't want you there. I can barely bring myself to be civil to you.
I knew when we started negotiating money we wouldn't agree. It is extremely fair of you to give me all the equity in the mortgaged to the hilt house in England. It is also extremely generous of you to give me 60% of the house in Turkey, the one we have been trying and failing for the last 4 years to sell. I wish I had stuck to being "risk averse" as you called me and stopped myself becoming "asset rich, cash poor" but with you having the degree in Financial Services and all those years working in a bank, I took your financial advice.
I understand that legally once your children finish the school term that they are 18 your financial obligation ends.
Legally, not morally.
I understand that legally when your son turns 18 you can stop paying for him.
When that happens, I will be unable to pay the mortgage, because it is ELEVEN times my annual salary. I cannot do that on my own, if I live with someone or remarry before October 2015 the house will have to be sold anyway.
That's fine because as there is only 1 night in the week (Wednesday) that I do not have to drive and collect one of the children from an activity and as they only spend 2 Saturdays a month with you, it's extremely unlikely I would be able to meet and develop a meaningful relationship with anyone anyway. And on those 2 Saturdays a month, I most always have the elder of the children home from uni plus Hot Boy.
What this all means is your younger daughter, the one who is the most vulnerable and volatile of all, will have to move house in the first year of her A levels. I will be unable to afford another property in this area so she will have to leave here, where she has lived since she was 3 and move away from her friends. And that will be devastating for her.
Legally you can do this, you will give me the 10% of your salary the CSA says is fair and you have offered £150 per month spousal maintenance. But that will not mean she can stay in her home till she finishes her A levels. Legal but not moral.
You can explain it to her.
To God
Are you kidding me?
Whatever I did in my last life it must have been bad. I apologize unreservedly for the shit I must have been. Mea fucking culpa.
Monday, 8 November 2010
11 Decisions I really didn't think through properly
A natural born decision maker I am not. As much as I'd love to be one of those people with a plan, I'm really not. I know I'd like to be planning for my future and should know where I'll be in 5 years time but I'd lay money on it, in 5 years time I'll be here. Just bumbling along and reacting to events rather than planning and following through. It seems like my whole life I have done things on a whim or let others decide for me. Sometimes it's been okay and I've got lucky and other times it's been stupid.
School
So bright, so rebellious, so couldn't be arsed. It would be the sweetest irony for my teachers, if they could have seen me in my classroom, 20 odd years later dealing with the new updated 21st century version of me. I could not wait to leave and get into the real world and it was a crap decision. I should have stayed on and studied and went to uni, like they told me. Instead I left and worked as a telephonist in a solicitors office. Stupid.
Nursing College
Never ever had a notion of being a nurse but my boyfriend, (at the time), had a lovely sister who was a nurse. It sounded interesting and she encouraged me heavily. So she got me the forms and I went for the interview and they took me. None of my family thought I'd be any good as squeamish is my middle name but I remember thinking I'll get through this and I'll qualify. I was actually a really good nurse, I did it for 15 years and I found I was good at looking after people, it was my first experience of being caring. Definitely got lucky on that decision.
Moving to Edinburgh
I was 21 and the ex mrauntiegwen (who was my boyfriend then) got 10 days notice that the bank he worked for were moving him to Edinburgh. In those days you signed a contract saying you'd work anywhere in the country for them, my mate The Edge ended up in Orkney, which may not have been his first choice of locations when he was in his 20's. Did I stop and think "Do I want to leave Glasgow and my family and friends, my job, my life?" nope, I didn't, just looked for a job in Edinburgh and went 7 weeks after he did. Fortunately I loved Edinburgh, made friends, bought 3 houses (not all at once), had 3 children and lived there for 13 years. Another got lucky.
Getting married
I was 3 weeks shy of being 22, what was I thinking? Actually I wasn't, at all. We'd been together 3 years, I'd moved through to Edinburgh, we bought a flat, we got married. Even if someone had questioned my decision, would I have listened? Nope, probably not. Would I want my daughters to get married at that age? Hell to the no. Was that a stupid or got lucky? Jury's still out.
Having children
I had children because I loved babies. I had no experience of children at all, I knew nothing about bringing up children. I adored being at home with them and squishing them and us all being snuggly together, so I kept on having them. I didn't even think that it might be less enjoyable when they stopped being babies and turned into people with their own opinions and likes and dislikes. Also, I didn't really think through the practicalities of having 3 children in 4 an a half years or the expense of it, especially now with 3 teenagers. But of all the non decisions I've made, easily my best - being their Mummy has been the best bit of my life. A big huge got lucky
Moving to England
The ex mrauntiegwen got offered a job in not the most exciting place in England. He decided it was the right one for him. That decision changed everything. My children had to leave behind their stable world and start again in a place where we had never been and we knew no one. The big selling point was that he wouldn't have to do any business travel, he'd be home at teatime every day. That was something I found very handy as previous to that I was often on my own Mon to Fri with 3 kids all under 7, this had been going on for about 5 years then. There were very few weeks when he wasn't away at least 1 or 2 nights a week. He lasted 18 months there and the job he then took, gave him a 3 hour daily commute and at least 2 nights per week away again, missing all the taking to schools and most teatimes and bath times. Do you think that was a hint? I never wanted to leave Edinburgh and I have no idea why I felt I wasn't an equal partner in that decision. I have no idea why I didn't refuse to leave. That was my most stupid decision of my life. Also financially stupid, if I'd stayed at home all my children would have their tuition fees paid, I have 3 children, we might be talking about 70 grand's worth of tuition. SO VERY FECKIN STUPID in capitals for emphasis.
Retraining
Another non decision, when BBD started playgroup here in England, I volunteered both there and at school to help the children settle. Playgroup asked me to cover for sick leave, I did, they liked me and so did the kids. They created a job for me, so I knew it was less money than nursing but it was school hours and term time only. I had no childcare to pay for and it seemed like a good idea. I went to college in the evening and did an NVQ3 in childcare, I spend loads of time helping others on the course and the tutor asked me if I'd be interested in doing the adult teacher training as they were very short of teachers. Another non decision, go with the flow type of thing. So I re trained as a teacher of adults, had a 2 year stint in a high school and then into the third sector. Just about to start my new job as the Education and Training Officer for the East Midlands, which is a big area for a big charity. Definitely another got lucky.
Going blonde
Now you know that was stupid
Eating chocolate again
4 years ago I gave up chocolate and started running. I weighed 7 and a half stone and was a size 6. I am now into double figures again STUPID STUPID STUPID
My finances
There is no cohesion nor a hint of planning. I should have ISA's and Tessa's and all other girls names money in the bank. I am forty feckin four and I am still living month to month. I know people who have 50 grand in savings. I'm like Carrie except rather than having 50 pairs of fancy shoes I have grey cardigans. My name is auntiegwen and I am addicted to buying cardigans. How boring can I be? and stupid.
Working from home
My new job is home based. How in the name of all that's holy did I think that I would be able to work from home? Me Queen of procrastination? addicted to her jammies and her bed? at home when I'm not out training? will I actually get on and do stuff when I have eleventy million things at home to distract me? And I can only imagine how professional I'll sound to people on the phone when they are trying to speak against the 10 decibel noise of the Beautiful Children fighting about every single feckin thing. Today I am meant to be turning my dining room into an office, again my procrastination beautifully illustrated by my messing around on the internets. Again, stupid.
So due to my passivity I have meandered through making lots of stupid decisions/non decisions. I have no excuse now, I am old enough to know better. Here's hoping the 2nd half of my life is more thought through.
School
So bright, so rebellious, so couldn't be arsed. It would be the sweetest irony for my teachers, if they could have seen me in my classroom, 20 odd years later dealing with the new updated 21st century version of me. I could not wait to leave and get into the real world and it was a crap decision. I should have stayed on and studied and went to uni, like they told me. Instead I left and worked as a telephonist in a solicitors office. Stupid.
Nursing College
Never ever had a notion of being a nurse but my boyfriend, (at the time), had a lovely sister who was a nurse. It sounded interesting and she encouraged me heavily. So she got me the forms and I went for the interview and they took me. None of my family thought I'd be any good as squeamish is my middle name but I remember thinking I'll get through this and I'll qualify. I was actually a really good nurse, I did it for 15 years and I found I was good at looking after people, it was my first experience of being caring. Definitely got lucky on that decision.
Moving to Edinburgh
I was 21 and the ex mrauntiegwen (who was my boyfriend then) got 10 days notice that the bank he worked for were moving him to Edinburgh. In those days you signed a contract saying you'd work anywhere in the country for them, my mate The Edge ended up in Orkney, which may not have been his first choice of locations when he was in his 20's. Did I stop and think "Do I want to leave Glasgow and my family and friends, my job, my life?" nope, I didn't, just looked for a job in Edinburgh and went 7 weeks after he did. Fortunately I loved Edinburgh, made friends, bought 3 houses (not all at once), had 3 children and lived there for 13 years. Another got lucky.
Getting married
I was 3 weeks shy of being 22, what was I thinking? Actually I wasn't, at all. We'd been together 3 years, I'd moved through to Edinburgh, we bought a flat, we got married. Even if someone had questioned my decision, would I have listened? Nope, probably not. Would I want my daughters to get married at that age? Hell to the no. Was that a stupid or got lucky? Jury's still out.
Having children
I had children because I loved babies. I had no experience of children at all, I knew nothing about bringing up children. I adored being at home with them and squishing them and us all being snuggly together, so I kept on having them. I didn't even think that it might be less enjoyable when they stopped being babies and turned into people with their own opinions and likes and dislikes. Also, I didn't really think through the practicalities of having 3 children in 4 an a half years or the expense of it, especially now with 3 teenagers. But of all the non decisions I've made, easily my best - being their Mummy has been the best bit of my life. A big huge got lucky
Moving to England
The ex mrauntiegwen got offered a job in not the most exciting place in England. He decided it was the right one for him. That decision changed everything. My children had to leave behind their stable world and start again in a place where we had never been and we knew no one. The big selling point was that he wouldn't have to do any business travel, he'd be home at teatime every day. That was something I found very handy as previous to that I was often on my own Mon to Fri with 3 kids all under 7, this had been going on for about 5 years then. There were very few weeks when he wasn't away at least 1 or 2 nights a week. He lasted 18 months there and the job he then took, gave him a 3 hour daily commute and at least 2 nights per week away again, missing all the taking to schools and most teatimes and bath times. Do you think that was a hint? I never wanted to leave Edinburgh and I have no idea why I felt I wasn't an equal partner in that decision. I have no idea why I didn't refuse to leave. That was my most stupid decision of my life. Also financially stupid, if I'd stayed at home all my children would have their tuition fees paid, I have 3 children, we might be talking about 70 grand's worth of tuition. SO VERY FECKIN STUPID in capitals for emphasis.
Retraining
Another non decision, when BBD started playgroup here in England, I volunteered both there and at school to help the children settle. Playgroup asked me to cover for sick leave, I did, they liked me and so did the kids. They created a job for me, so I knew it was less money than nursing but it was school hours and term time only. I had no childcare to pay for and it seemed like a good idea. I went to college in the evening and did an NVQ3 in childcare, I spend loads of time helping others on the course and the tutor asked me if I'd be interested in doing the adult teacher training as they were very short of teachers. Another non decision, go with the flow type of thing. So I re trained as a teacher of adults, had a 2 year stint in a high school and then into the third sector. Just about to start my new job as the Education and Training Officer for the East Midlands, which is a big area for a big charity. Definitely another got lucky.
Going blonde
Now you know that was stupid
Eating chocolate again
4 years ago I gave up chocolate and started running. I weighed 7 and a half stone and was a size 6. I am now into double figures again STUPID STUPID STUPID
My finances
There is no cohesion nor a hint of planning. I should have ISA's and Tessa's and all other girls names money in the bank. I am forty feckin four and I am still living month to month. I know people who have 50 grand in savings. I'm like Carrie except rather than having 50 pairs of fancy shoes I have grey cardigans. My name is auntiegwen and I am addicted to buying cardigans. How boring can I be? and stupid.
Working from home
My new job is home based. How in the name of all that's holy did I think that I would be able to work from home? Me Queen of procrastination? addicted to her jammies and her bed? at home when I'm not out training? will I actually get on and do stuff when I have eleventy million things at home to distract me? And I can only imagine how professional I'll sound to people on the phone when they are trying to speak against the 10 decibel noise of the Beautiful Children fighting about every single feckin thing. Today I am meant to be turning my dining room into an office, again my procrastination beautifully illustrated by my messing around on the internets. Again, stupid.
So due to my passivity I have meandered through making lots of stupid decisions/non decisions. I have no excuse now, I am old enough to know better. Here's hoping the 2nd half of my life is more thought through.
Friday, 5 November 2010
Eleven things I'd like to have a go at
Zumba
They're running a class in my local high school on Tuesday evenings, apparently it's an exercise that feels like a party. I definitely some of that. I wonder if there will be flirting and drinking too? Anyone want to come with me?
Zorbing
You go in a big inflatable ball and roll down a hill, a bit like being a human hamster. It looks gas fun, The Beautiful Children quite fancy it as well.
Festivals
I'm gutted that I've never done any music festivals, I feel I'm letting myself down. I love live music, I love being with happy likeminded people but I'm middle aged and don't like mud so I've never done one. I really must have a go before I'm too old.
Yoga and/or Pilates
I still want to go that Pilates in France place. All the people I know who do yoga or pilates are all serene and thin and bendy. I'd quite like to be serene and thin and bendy. As opposed to irritable, chubby and not bendy.
Snowboarding and/or skiing
All my children can ski and board. I could have bought a new car or a fitted kitchen with the money I have spent on my offsprings Alpine pursuits. But I've never had a go, all together now... poor poor auntie.
Building/renovating a House
God, wouldn't that be amazing? To create your own home? To have exactly what you want where you want it? The flaw in this plan is that I have zero DIY skills and I live in a house where if something goes wrong I get a teenage boy to fix it or I adapt around it. I have none of the 4 recessed lighting thingies that work in my kitchen and if the 1 light above the kitchen table goes I will need to buy a lamp. Pitiful isn't it?
Being stylishly dressed and accesorised
Not gonna happen is it? I just don't have the imagination for it. I suspect my can't be arsed gene doesn't help.
A pyschology degree
I know, for nearly 4 years I've been bumping my gums that I'd love to do one. Nothing is stopping me except my can't be arsed gene. D'ya think I could get it removed on the NHS?
A gap year
Is this not the middle of my life? do I not deserve a wee rest from the giddy and exciting whirl of kids, work, laundry, heating up stuff and tidying away stuff that is my very rock n roll existence? My friend Neil aka The Edge went travelling years ago and wrote about his adventures and I always hope I'll be able to do that someday too. Obviously not as well as The Edge did, as he pays careful attention to grammar and is always funny, he gets very cross with my spelling, punctuation and grammar. Incidentally, my friend Neil aka The Edge is not in U2, his band is way cooler and currently wowing the good people of central Scotland with their "No sleep till Horlicks" tour.
Singing
I am truly, truly dreadful but it's a talent I dearly wish I possesed. Is it possible to teach anyone, no matter how bad, to sing? Scratch that, you know my can't be arsed gene would be working overtime.
David Tennant
Yum.
They're running a class in my local high school on Tuesday evenings, apparently it's an exercise that feels like a party. I definitely some of that. I wonder if there will be flirting and drinking too? Anyone want to come with me?
Zorbing
You go in a big inflatable ball and roll down a hill, a bit like being a human hamster. It looks gas fun, The Beautiful Children quite fancy it as well.
Festivals
I'm gutted that I've never done any music festivals, I feel I'm letting myself down. I love live music, I love being with happy likeminded people but I'm middle aged and don't like mud so I've never done one. I really must have a go before I'm too old.
Yoga and/or Pilates
I still want to go that Pilates in France place. All the people I know who do yoga or pilates are all serene and thin and bendy. I'd quite like to be serene and thin and bendy. As opposed to irritable, chubby and not bendy.
Snowboarding and/or skiing
All my children can ski and board. I could have bought a new car or a fitted kitchen with the money I have spent on my offsprings Alpine pursuits. But I've never had a go, all together now... poor poor auntie.
Building/renovating a House
God, wouldn't that be amazing? To create your own home? To have exactly what you want where you want it? The flaw in this plan is that I have zero DIY skills and I live in a house where if something goes wrong I get a teenage boy to fix it or I adapt around it. I have none of the 4 recessed lighting thingies that work in my kitchen and if the 1 light above the kitchen table goes I will need to buy a lamp. Pitiful isn't it?
Being stylishly dressed and accesorised
Not gonna happen is it? I just don't have the imagination for it. I suspect my can't be arsed gene doesn't help.
A pyschology degree
I know, for nearly 4 years I've been bumping my gums that I'd love to do one. Nothing is stopping me except my can't be arsed gene. D'ya think I could get it removed on the NHS?
A gap year
Is this not the middle of my life? do I not deserve a wee rest from the giddy and exciting whirl of kids, work, laundry, heating up stuff and tidying away stuff that is my very rock n roll existence? My friend Neil aka The Edge went travelling years ago and wrote about his adventures and I always hope I'll be able to do that someday too. Obviously not as well as The Edge did, as he pays careful attention to grammar and is always funny, he gets very cross with my spelling, punctuation and grammar. Incidentally, my friend Neil aka The Edge is not in U2, his band is way cooler and currently wowing the good people of central Scotland with their "No sleep till Horlicks" tour.
Singing
I am truly, truly dreadful but it's a talent I dearly wish I possesed. Is it possible to teach anyone, no matter how bad, to sing? Scratch that, you know my can't be arsed gene would be working overtime.
David Tennant
Yum.
Monday, 1 November 2010
Eleven
After spending a lovely 10 days at The Beautiful House I have been home for 6 days and I still haven't properly unpacked, my house is a tip and I'm freezing and knackered. So rather than dwell upon the negatives I will focus on the good stuff, see how hard your auntie works at being a happy wee scone?
Please have 11 things (going for 11 posts containing 11 things as it's November and I forgot to do my 10 posts in October) that made your auntie happy in the last week.
Sitting in the sunshine reading and enjoying the moment as I knew I was flying back to the UK and I was fairly sure it was the last sit in the sun moment of my year. The photo is of the view from my terrace. I saw this wooden heart and I had to buy it and hang it there. It really doesn't get much better than this for me.
The ex mr auntiegwen collecting me from the airport and bringing Eldest Beautiful Daughter with him. I have never spent 10 days apart from her before so he made a detour to collect her so I could see her as soon as possible.
I am brown as brown can be, this pleases me muchly. I can't do pale and interesting I just look like death warmed up.
Now that The Beautiful Son is a paperboy, the newsagent has agreed that I can have my Sunday Times delivered. They wouldn't do it before as I only wanted 1 paper per week. So on Sunday I had the unbeknown bliss of reading my Sunday Times in bed, usually I have to get up, get dressed and go to Sainsbury's to buy it. It was utterly heavenly to potter downstairs, collect paper and coffee and straight back to bed. I agree, very easily pleased.
02 sent me a bar of chocolate as a treat. How good is that? It was so lovely, yummy chocolate aptly named Divine, I would even go as far to say it was better than a fruit and nut toblerone.
Hot Boy made dinner for us, no one ever does that.
I did my tax return. I handed it on on Thursday 28th October, 3 days before the deadline. Oh yes, effieciency becomes me, it goes with my grey hair.
Texting my lovely mate on Tuesday night. I am such a bad friend. I never text him but when we do text/speak/spend time together I realise how much I heart him. Also he gets bonus points for keeping in touch with me and for never moaning about how shamefully I neglect him.
I remembered to send my niece's birthday card on time. I also bought her present when I was on holiday and gave it to my mum to take back to Glasmental with her. I am a smug auntie and my sister has nada to complain about till I forget the next niece's birthday in June.
I found out that my first day at my new job is being spent at a hotel, meet at 10.30 am for coffee and then a working lunch. I get overexcited about stuff like that. I know I'm sad but I have always worked in the public sector so classrooms or wards are where I usually spend my first day.
I am going to London for work early December, I heart London, anyone want to come play with auntiegwen?
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Back to reality
Hot Boy - "Welcome home Wendy, did you have a good holiday?"
auntiegwen - "Yep thanks, you okay?"
Hot Boy - " I am but I've just peed on my hands" (in a disconcerted voice)
auntiegwen - " Scuse me?" (in a I can't believe I'm hearing this tone)
Hot Boy - "I was having a pee, seen a hair on the end of my knob, tried to take it off, peed on my hand, not happy"
auntiegwen - " Mase, it's only taken you about 20 seconds to give me too much information, I did miss you."
auntiegwen - "Yep thanks, you okay?"
Hot Boy - " I am but I've just peed on my hands" (in a disconcerted voice)
auntiegwen - " Scuse me?" (in a I can't believe I'm hearing this tone)
Hot Boy - "I was having a pee, seen a hair on the end of my knob, tried to take it off, peed on my hand, not happy"
auntiegwen - " Mase, it's only taken you about 20 seconds to give me too much information, I did miss you."
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